


Bonded

by GeneralPear



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28799259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralPear/pseuds/GeneralPear
Summary: Artorias realizes he has feelings for Ornstein and doesn’t know how to go about confessing. Ornstein confronts him and was not expecting why Artorias began to act so strangely.
Relationships: Artorias the Abysswalker/Dragon Slayer Ornstein
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Bonded

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this two years ago and originally posted it on Tumblr, but got inspired to touch it up and upload it here! I added about another 2,000 words from the original and changed some things.

It merely... happened.

If pressed to answer  _ when  _ and  _ where _ , Artorias could not answer. Perhaps, it had always been present. The yearning born too far back for him to remember a time he felt differently, innocently slipping itself into his heart between his day-to-day activities. It was a fact of life now, a constant in what it meant to be Artorias. The only true change was his awareness in it, something that had little effect on its existence. After all, awareness did not mean it had not existed prior. He acknowledged its presence and as consequence, wished to return to a time he was ignorant again. It was not like in the tales he had read, where the experience of love made one fuller and jubilant. His love burdened him with anxiety deemed distracting and bothersome to someone of his caliber. It was a threat to his professionalism and carefully fostered image. It was an unknown he did not know how to approach, which made it a thorn in his side despite love’s innocent purity.

_ How  _ and  _ why _ , however, was answered more easily once Artorias dared to ponder it. People found comfort in exploring their fondness of something. If prompted, they would easily list why they felt such emotions. Gleefully, they would tell all the reasons why they had a favorite time of day or adorned themselves in a singular color.

In Artorias’ case, he was not fond of  _ something _ . He was fond of  _ someone _ . It was a different journey. It had history. The walk backwards to answer why led to a longing heartache. It fostered an active imagination about what it would be like to have more. This was something that people who enjoyed a mere sunset did not worry over. A sunset would always be a sunset. They did not need to imagine what more it could be, having no need to fret of the agony of being without would be like.

To say the least, love of a person was more complex than preferences and favorites could ever hope to be. It was why the answers to “how” and “why” took special courage. It had the power to hurt and instill a desire that could never be met. It was easy to give into doubt and despair, afflicted with an emptiness that lived as long as the desire did. Even crueler, it did not stay just as history. It bled into every reminder and reinforcement of why the fondness stayed. Against one’s will, it made itself known through strengthened palpitations and mysterious waves of warmth. It could force unbecoming behavior and be what makes an impulse a reality. Yes, love of a person was more dangerous than many could comprehend, even as victims of it themselves.

After all, love had no mercy in legends and stories that often turned wise men into fools and experienced women into young maidens again.

Artorias was not spared from these troubles except for one aspect. He had yet to make a fool out of himself. Except… degradingly, he had already begun to see his own feelings in of itself as silly and foolish. How could he let this happen? Was he not meant to be above such desire and distraction? He had his duties. He could not afford to waste time pining, nor weaken his spirit with such longing. Yet, love already had its claws around him. He was powerless.

Now that he was aware of it, it became harder to ignore. He wanted so badly, it physically hurt. It stung even greater as he tried to wish it away, as if personally reminding him that he was no master here. He desired and dreamt. He loved, just like any common soul could.

There was no changing it. He wanted Ornstein.

* * *

Artorias had his list. His  _ how  _ and  _ whys  _ answered. It seemed obvious now why he was doomed. Certainly, if he ever dared to explain to another, it would only be seen as natural.  _ Of course _ , you would love him.  _ Of course, of course— that is the best kind of love there is. _

His mind was most active at night, his back against the covers of his bed, and the cool air unable to chill his flushed skin. His thoughts were filled to the brim with reminders of why he loved Ornstein… why the truth could never be denied again without becoming a lie instead of ignorance.

* * *

Steely gauntlets knocked against goldened metal with the same rhythm one would use for a door, much to the irritation of the owner of the lion-shaped helmet who had been hunched over the list of duties for that day. A few lines had already been crossed off. 

“Artorias,” Ornstein grumbled with a lack of force that would surprise some. Truly, too used to such antics, and after all, this is just what it meant to be them. By now, he was used to Artorias’ ridiculous habit of tapping upon his helmet. “Must thou intrudest upon my work?  _ Again? _ ”

Ornstein’s gentle exasperation was met with a dismissive chuckle from Artorias. “If I waited until thou hast no work, no words would be spoken to thee again.”

“Thou knowest my duties. Perhaps thou shouldst become familiar with thine own again.”

“Completing thy duties does not mean thou canst not have a break.”

_ This was their dance. _ Artorias knew the steps well by now. Ornstein’s chastising was hardly to be considered so. Once upon a time, it had more bite when they were still newer with each other. Ornstein was dedicated to serve and little more, while Artorias dedicated himself to serve but be more. Now, it was nothing but the lingering essence of professionalism needed to be a captain. As if he molded himself to fit Artorias’ demeanor, he teased and nothing more. Artorias learned how to tell as such early on. It was easy to mock, and the persistent display amused the wolf knight every time. It was who Ornstein was. Change was unlikely. Artorias would rather not see him any other way.

Beneath his hood, Artorias smiled as he saw Ornstein’s helmet dip in defeat— a familiar sight in banter like this. Despite Ornstein’s resistance and contradictions, he often yielded to Artorias like he would to no one else except the highest royalty. Their bond was special, after all, forged through years and years of war. They saw sides to each other that would be considered a privilege to see, aspects of personality that were near exclusive to one another. Whether or not Ornstein regarded this as fondly as Artorias did eluded him. In the end, Artorias knew he cherished it as it should be. 

Ornstein sighed. His shoulders dropped, quill lowered onto his paperwork. A mark of victory for Artorias. “Thou hast an idea for this break, then?”

“When do I not?” Artorias returned before he took lead. Ornstein followed without resistance, ever curious about what they would do this time.

* * *

The pointed tip of a spear was held up to the vulnerable skin of a throat shrouded by a hood, while the end of a greatsword was slid beneath the rounded ends of a golden helmet. Both weapons stopped short of actually doing damage, serving their purpose of bringing thoughts of a loss and death as they pressed against such vulnerable places.

“So, is this to be considered a draw then?” Artorias breathed heavily. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

There was a pause before Ornstein relaxed and pulled his spear away from the wolf knight. “I suppose so.”

Artorias sighed. Mirroring Ornstein, he relaxed and pulled away his greatsword.  _ Another draw _ , he thought; disappointed that it had been some time since he was able to hold a victory over his friend.  _ Better than a loss _ , he went on to reason to himself.

When time allowed for it, sparring matches between the two knights were not uncommon. When a soul was warforged, it lived off the thrill of a good match. To them, it was a sport. A brief fall back into days of glory and a reminder why they were who they were now. The complexity of their challenges to one another ranged from hand-to-hand sparring to matches with full equipment. Their competition even reached more grandiose levels, bordering on pretentious, when they sought unorthodox methods to show off. Tests of accuracy with bows and arrows for example, a weapon neither of them favored.

Artorias learned the hard way that if he craved victory, it was in his best interest to decline all challenges of jousting from Ornstein. Each time, he found himself upon the ground, wind knocked from his lungs, and shadowed by a lion knight whose ego was fat with satisfaction. Even in these moments, it was not a total loss. Even appreciation leaked into the bitter taste of defeat as he bore witness to Ornstein’s pride and rare attempts he gave into temptation to show off. So unlike the captain to give into these baser desires that it made Artorias laugh despite his wounded pride.

These little contests were one way to learn Ornstein could ride horseback standing. Artorias did not have words the first time he witnessed it. The golden lion in a sturdy stance, beautiful crimson plume billowing behind him, and radiating confidence. Artorias was awe-struck. Perhaps, the intended effect, as his surprise left him wide open to being unseated from his horse.

Artorias was brought back to the moment when Ornstein’s helmet thudded against the sparring room table. Artorias looked over just in time to see a bead of sweat roll down the creased brow of his friend. He also noticed that the fine line of Ornstein’s jaw flexed, a tell that he was deep in thought as he worked to remove his armor. Briefly, Artorias wondered what was on his mind. The other knight was so often reserved in demeanor, Artorias found himself wildly curious about many things. 

They lived so much in their armor, it was a delightful surprise whenever their kind was not confined to ornate layerings. Not that he was to forget Ornstein’s features any time soon. It was merely… a treat to see them again, when he could. The make of his features was utterly divine, hardened and edged much like his personality. The immaculate appearance of his hair was a subject of envy, a beautiful curtain of silky red.

Artorias pondered if it would flow like water through his fingers.

A treat? Water through his fingers? Why did he have such peculiar thoughts? Artorias already found it strange enough he took such detailed notice of said features. Now he deemed it a treat... It was troubling, but he had yet to know why. There was a vague rise of guilt like these thoughts were something inappropriate. His heart trembled. He felt upset… but why? 

“Thou left thyself vulnerable,” Ornstein spoke up suddenly, thankfully pulling Artorias away from his thoughts.

“And I could say the same to thee. ‘Tis why it was a draw.”

Ornstein grunted before he resumed stripping himself down to the leather he wore beneath his armored suit. Artorias did the same, devoting more focus to doing just that. He did not want his eyes to wander to the details of Ornstein’s body. Silence returned between them again. 

It was not until they were both left in just their leathers and neatly sorting their armor that the quiet atmosphere was broken by Artorias. There was no better time to share an idea he had for quite some time.

“I want thee to accompany me to Royal Wood.”

Ornstein slowed to a halt in the middle of making his layout of armor neater. He looked over his shoulder. “Pardon?”

“Next time there is more time to spare, I want thee to accompany me to Royal Wood,” Artorias repeated with louder clarity.

“I did not mishear thy words— but why?”

“For a proper break. To be free from our duties, if only for a day or two. For… fun. Surely thou hast not forgotten the meaning of the word. A visit had already been planned. Only fair to invite thee.”

“And what dost thou plan to do in Royal Wood?”

“Speak to Alvina. See how her new hunters fare. It was my home before Anor Londo, thou ought to know. ‘Tis a beautiful forest. I think thou wouldst think the same.”

“And why dost thou need my company?”

Artorias sighed, disappointed the offer could not be simple to Ornstein. What else did he expect? Surely, the lion knight’s mind was already rife with the amount of work he would fall behind on indulging this venture. Artorias placed his hands on his hips and turned to face Ornstein. “I will not force thee to come, but it would be greatly… appreciated.”

There was a stretch of silence as Ornstein turned back to his armor. Artorias prepared for a final decline, feeling that he had pressed his luck too much. He turned his back to Ornstein. At least he tried.

“I will come,” Ornstein agreed suddenly.

Artorias did a double take, head lifted suddenly. He was surprised and his follow-up was to give a doubtful  _ “Really?” _ .

“Yes, I will.”

There was a flood of warmth in Artorias’ chest. He knew how Ornstein felt stepping away from Anor Londo, and the importance was not lost on him. He swallowed. “Thank you,” he said with heavy sincerity. “Truly, it is appreciated.”

Ornstein waved, most likely to dismiss the knight’s flood of emotions, and continued on as if the conversation never happened. It seemed that was that to him and Artorias said no more on the matter.

* * *

Now  _ that  _ was a memory Artorias did not dare dwell on. It was not a disaster by  _ any  _ means. Truly, the opposite. The time spent with Alvina was pleasant and her hunters were turning out to be true warriors. The forest thrived and he even showed Ornstein the peculiar white flowers that glowed in the distance, a childhood favorite of Artorias’. Artorias was thankful he took the time to show Ornstein the delicate flowers, for Artorias glimpsed enamorment in those often cold eyes.

The one complaint he had that caused the memory to be avoided was that it was a hot, muggy day. They were in no danger of being harmed by it, but that didn’t mean it was not  _ uncomfortable _ . In the last hours they had, remembering simpler times of swimming in the cool, crystalline water, Artorias suggested just that without thinking much of it.

He didn’t have second thoughts until he was in the water himself and Ornstein stripped down to join him.

Here he had been fretting over his notice of Ornstein’s jawline. Now, he had fixated on much more than that of Ornstein. His gaze was averted plenty of times over to keep his dignity.

It was here he learned he was capable of such… base desire.

Not to say he was depraved or drawn to… certain aspects of the body. His eyes kept above the other knight’s waist. The mere shape and definition of Ornstein’s muscles, the expected physique of someone of their kind as active as he, was what earned so much notice. It was downright admirable, the delicate balance between raw strength and a slim form. There was a dip in Ornstein’s hips that Artorias never noticed before, making him realize his fellow knight sported a handsome hourglass figure as the muscles in his upper body tapered down. That was not the only commendable quality. That beautiful hair Artorias was so fond of, now soaked, framed his body in a way that was nigh angelic. He did not know why it gave that impression, except the knowledge that if a painting was dedicated to this sight, witnesses would lose hours being captivated by this mesmerizing divinity. 

Some would say it was hardly a scandal, but with the way Artorias had slowed in the waters to gawk, it was a blessing that Ornstein’s attention had not been on him. He could not live it down if the other knight actually saw how Artorias looked at him.

As a flush threatened to warm Artorias’ face, he took a deep breath and pressed his pillow to his face. Now he knew why he had such odd quirks for Ornstein and only Ornstein. He felt stupid about it now, the answer feeling obvious.

_ Of course, you would love him. Of course, of course. _

* * *

In another world, this would have been the gateway to something grand and beautiful. Contrary, the moments between Ornstein and Artorias began to feel less natural. It was an agony self-inflicted by Artorias, convinced that there was no chance. He was a lovestruck fool. Artorias did not pursue Ornstein. It would ruin everything between them, he was sure. Other than the wishful fantasies his imagination conjured, he had no reason to believe Ornstein felt the same, nor that this pursuit would be anything except ruinous. The negativity burdened him. He ached and hurt. Without his awareness, this hopelessness leaked into his behaviors, greedily consumptive in its spread of dismay.

It took time for Artorias to see that his reception to Ornstein had grown colder, more distant, than either of them were accustomed to. Each draw and occasional loss drew more bitterness from the wolf knight. Their already rare touches lingered less. At times, Artorias daringly pulled away, leaving Ornstein looking what he presumed to be mildly confused. He had stopped showing up to bother Ornstein during his duties, and spoke formally as a knight should when he conversed with Ornstein.

In an ideal world, Ornstein would not have noticed. Appreciated it, even. Things could return to a new normalcy, Ornstein free from any worries or burdens of frivolous affection. Left alone to his own devices, as he was fond of. No complications, no lingering awkwardness.

This... was not an ideal world. Ornstein was too calculating. Artorias was an ignorant fool who blinded himself from seeing this coming, despite bearing witness to the analytical, wondering, look in the other’s eyes. 

It was evening hours when Artorias found himself sitting upon his bed, wide-eyed and stunned as if he had been caught doing something illicit. Ornstein stood in his doorway with a wide-footed stance and a frosty look in his eyes, having burst in unannounced and with thunderous presence. It has been a long time since Ornstein looked at him with such volatile emotion. He took one step forward and shut Artorias’ door behind him. With a hand behind his back, Ornstein turned the lock on the door for good measure. This was between them and only them.

“What is wrong with thee?” Ornstein interrogated, tone ladened with accusation and topped with a cutting edge.

Artorias blinked, uncomfortably shuffled his feet, and cast his gaze downwards. “I know not what thou speake—”

“ **_Do not,_ ** ” Ornstein cut off with a fire that scalded. Any hotter, Artorias would have reeled and flinched at how viciously it was spat. “Do not play these games with me, Artorias.”

It has been a long time since he had seen Ornstein mad with such spark, and it left the wolf knight wondering why. Had his behavior been worse than he thought? Or perhaps he truly believed something had gone gravely wrong with the wolf knight. As captain, it was his duty to hunt the problem down to its root, dedication seeped down to every bone in his body. Still, it seemed off. This was personal for once, a frightening consideration for Artorias… fear that he had insulted his dearest friend and sullied not only their bond but their status as well.

Artorias kept silent. Words did not come easily and he felt ill, stomach clenched tight and churning with anxiety. It was hard enough to think of the truth, how was he to be expected to actually speak it?

The continued silence and lack of response was not received well by the captain. If anything, it only served to vex him further. He took a few heavy steps towards Artorias until he towered over his seated position. He looked down, a crease between his brows and upper lip almost twitched into a sneer.

“Well? Am I to guess?”

Silence.

Ornstein growled. “Have I done something to anger thee?”

Artorias shook his head.

“What is wrong then?”

More silence.

“Artorias—”

The wolf knight twiddled his thumbs.

Ornstein stomped once on the carpet to demand Artorias’ full attention, another growl rumbling in his throat. Even now, Artorias was familiar with this Ornstein. He wanted a way and would get it, no matter what. He yielded to no one except the mightiest Gods and bent others to his whims with indescribable skill and control. His voice hardened even more, escalating his commanding presence. “Artorias, as thy captain, I demand thee to look at me and tell me what is wrong!”

“I’m–” His throat closed around the word, forbidding any more from passing. Artorias felt like he was going to burst beneath the scrutiny. The pressure was felt on his sternum and around his poor, aching heart. His throat felt suffocatingly tight, his stomach had dropped to unreachable depths, and his head fluttered with the lightness of clouds. Disgustingly weak, he wished to cry and be gone from the moment. 

“I’m  **_what?!_ ** ”

“I am in love with thee!” It came out fast, shot like a deadly arrow. A wonder how unrefined, how _raw_ , how **_scared_** one measly little sentence could be! The moment it left his lips, Artorias’ hands shot up and covered his face, elbows rested on his knees, as if he expected Anor Londo to crumble above his head. Surely, his affections and behavior was worthy of a reckoning to punish him. 

Now they were both silent. This was not like their other common silences. This one was thick and palpable, a heavy blanket that engulfed the entire room.

Still covering his face, Artorias could not see Ornstein’s reaction, but he felt and heard the uneasy change in step in the carpet. There was a small thud, presumably Ornstein’s hand meeting the wall to hold himself up.  _ Hah _ , Artorias morbidly thought,  _ he did a double take… Oh, what a mess _ . He prepared to hear the worst, or for Ornstein to simply leave; far too above such lowly things to even deal with the situation anymore. Artorias did not dare to be the first to break the silence. It was not his place. The moment belonged to Ornstein. If he was to be burdened with… with this mess, Artorias would give him all the time in the world to sort through it.

Ornstein remained... and finally broke the silence that was his to breach.

“… thou speakest the truth?” Ornstein asked quietly. Hesitantly. To Artorias’ trained ear, it even seemed that there was a waver. A sharp contrast to the blazing fire. The lion knight was unsure of what to make of the situation, and for once, proceeded blind— Artorias knew this much. There was more guilt, now for the fact that he had wretched Ornstein so far from his comforts. He had dared to make his infallible captain appear weak. An unforgivable insult. 

“Indeed and… I am sorry.” The apology felt necessary, whatever it may be taken for. Artorias was sorry for the other’s treatment, sorry for having such feelings in the first place… he was sorry for anything Ornstein needed him to be sorry for. 

Ornstein himself was at a loss of words, if the spaces between his sentences were to mean anything. Against his better judgement, Artorias finally peaked from between his fingers to see the emotions on Ornstein’s features... but the other knight was looking off to the side. From what could be told from Artorias’ angle, his eyes were no longer so cold, but were not empty either. They were brimming with emotion, far too much. The enraged spark that had guided his actions prior had dissipated entirely. Now, he looked deeply contemplative, if not still reeling at the sudden confession. Was he overwhelmed, finally outside all of his elements?

“How long?” Ornstein asked just as hushed before.

Gently prompted, the truth finally out, Artorias found it easier to speak. A sharp contrast to before, he now felt as if he had too much to say and not enough time. “... too long. I-I do not know when it began. One day, I realized it was just… there.”

There was a quiet hum of acknowledgement from Ornstein who nodded his head. His stare shifted to the floor. Artorias had not the slightest idea what that meant, let alone what he thought. His mind was overactive in possibilities. Disgust. Shame. Confusion. Anything and all between and outside these emotions.

The silence grew along with Artorias’ anxiety, and as his anxiety grew, so did his inclination for the impulsive words that rattled in the cage of his skull. “Believe me when I say that I expect nothing from thee. It is foolish, I know. Thou hast no obligation to meet my desires.” The words bumbled out without caution, messy in delivery. He bursted with energy to salvage what he could of the situation, to rectify what he saw as a mistake. “Thou—”

Ornstein held up a hand to cut him off. “Artorias, stop. Please.” 

He sounded exhausted, which only made Artorias ache more. He felt like a scolded child. Embarrassed, his shoulders sunk as his hunched form curled in on itself. There was so much more he wished to say, but he dared not to defy Ornstein at this point. He kept his silence, as Ornstein had reclaimed the moment.

For a couple of seconds, Ornstein continued to merely stand and say nothing. Frozen on the spot. Then… he did something surprising. With a new gentle mien, he wordlessly crossed the room and took a place next to Artorias. The mattress sunk into the frame with both their weights. Out of the corner of his eye, Artorias cautiously watched him. This had gone farther than he ever could have imagined. Each second was something new to experience and take in, for he had the slightest idea of what would come next.

“I am not upset at thee,” Ornstein began. “But I will be honest. ‘Tis… not something I have thought about before.”

Artorias let out a lengthy sigh. It was unexpected how much it hurt to hear. His chest throbbed with an unbelievable ache and it was entirely  _ unfair _ . His mind, his body, had betrayed him. He was supposed to be a knight of Gwyn, with all of this shameful weakness and desire? “I know, I know. I expected as such. ‘Tis why I wanted to keep it secret, so thou—”

“ _ Artorias _ ,” Ornstein cut off again. However, this time, the name was said  _ much _ softer. Sweetly cooed even, if Artorias dared to indulge. It saved Artorias from aggravation at the insistent interruptions. Ornstein’s hand reached out and slid underneath Artorias’ arm, thumb circling over the wolf knight’s bicep. Artorias gasped. He did not know how much he needed this touch until he had it. It was so simple, and yet, Artorias painfully longed to melt into it. To surrender and be lost in this swirling vortex of passions. 

To Artorias, it was close enough to a comforting caress, but he knew better than to let his mind insert its wants. Still, electricity shot up his spine, a brief high that served to relax his muscles. 

“… I did not say ‘twas a thought I am opposed to.”

Artorias choked. “Excuse me?” His back straightened out, an eyebrow quirked in pure puzzlement. Was this a trick? Could Ornstein possibly mean what he thought he meant? All at once, he felt dizzy and sick to his stomach as the situation felt more uncertain. Yet, even closer to his dreams. He has never felt more uplifted in his life, not even when named a Knight of Gwyn. He was over the stars, radiant, dazzling, and so close to happiness his fingers just barely struggled to brush against it.

“I said I… I…” Ornstein stuttered. He truly, undeniably,  _ stuttered _ . Artorias could hardly believe it. Now that he was not overcome with his own shame, the tells of embarrassment and shared awkwardness in Ornstein was more apparent. Not surprising when thought upon. Sympathy flared in Artorias’ heart, offset by seeing someone so beloved so uncomfortable. Even the best among them would stumble in such a foreign, yet delicate predicament, but he knew that Ornstein felt the weight ten times worse than anybody else, the perfectionist that he was. “Yes, it is not something I considered before. Now that I have, ‘tis not an… an unpleasant thought. Being something…  _ more _ ,” Ornstein finished with a sudden haste.

“Oh,” was all Artorias could reply at the moment. It took time to process, and the silence they had seemed to become so fond of came back. Ornstein now twisted the ring on his own finger, falling victim to anxiety. 

Artorias continued. “And now it is thou who speakest the truth?” There was a breathy chuckle afterwards, a noise of unsure disbelief. A nervous tic.

“Dost thou believe I tell lies?”

“No. Forgive me. I confess I… do not know what to say to thee anymore.”

“How dost thou think I feel?” Ornstein anxiously chuckled, mimicking Artorias’ previous bout.

Artorias worried his bottom lip between his teeth. He merely stared and stared at Ornstein now, lips slightly parted. Ornstein was in his own world, his own thoughts, staring down at his feet. He frowned. The corners of his lips quivered. A crease formed between his brows. Conflict was written all over his face. Something tore him up inside, and from this pain came the most agonizing confession.

“I have not been more to somebody in a long time.”

_ Oh _ . Oh, that hurt. Artorias could feel Ornstein’s agony and fear. It radiated off the other’s frame. In this moment, Ornstein was smaller. Utterly vulnerable in a manner he swore off centuries ago. Artorias knew the source of this heartbreak. A missing prince, long gone… loved, then hated, and loved again. Hated… again. A vicious back and forth that granted no reprieve. His absence was still felt by all, but it had hurt no one more than it had hurt Ornstein.

“Ornstein, look at me.”

Hesitantly, Ornstein’s attention was bestowed upon Artorias. He stared with glassy eyes, stronger emotion forcibly dulled. Artorias saw through it, straight down to the other’s scarred heart. All this time… all this time and not once had Artorias considered that broken hearts still desperately longed for love.

“May I… may I kiss thee?” the wolf knight tentatively asked.

Ornstein balked. He gave another chuckle like before, except this time it hitched and sounded more nervous. “Thou hast a fast approach, I see.” A genuine tease from the captain in this moment, most likely to lighten the mood and move away from past heartbreak.

Artorias’ dipped his head, slightly ashamed. After all, he did not want to do anything to unsettle the other knight so early on. He simply saw it fitting, a way to communicate that Ornstein was truly something more to him as he  **deserved** to be.

Ornstein looked at Artorias, then the walls, back to Artorias again, and then to the floor. “If it is thy desire…” he murmured.

Artorias’ heart skipped a beat.  _ Alright then _ . The wolf knight tried to swallow the nervous lump in his throat, now giddy that what he long dreamt of was now a reality. He angled himself to face Ornstein better, and reached up to cup his face in his hand to be the sole focus of the other’s attention. A glance off to the side by Ornstein betrayed his embarrassment at the sudden sweetness. Artorias knew it was not so easily, but he was desperate to whisk Ornstein away to a better place. To give him the better that he had deserved back then and now. Kisses were just that: kisses… but Artorias prayed that this one would be an escape for Ornstein, even temporarily. 

Artorias leaned forward, then paused. They looked into each other’s eyes. Finally, the captivation was mutual. They were entwined in each other, free and subject to everything passions brought forth. 

His fingertips trembled against Ornstein’s jawline. He hoped that the lion knight did not think too badly of him for his nerves. At least, that was his thought until he felt Ornstein’s own quiver against his touch. They were so tightly wound up in each other, they trembled under the tension. 

With a deep breath for confidence, Artorias pressed his lips against Ornstein’s.

It was intended to be a soft kiss, and in the beginning, it was. Against him, Ornstein shuddered. It did not have a fever to it like many stories would try to tell, passion finally let loose to live its wild nature. The only heat between them was the blush that spread across both their faces. In all meanings of the word, it was a gentle action. Simple. The kiss had newfound innocence in it and a purity that neither of them had felt in a long, long time. Artorias felt young.

When Artorias tried to pull away, Ornstein came with him. He was intoxicated, unwilling to part just yet. Lost… exactly as Artorias prayed he could be. Ornstein pressed harder, nails digging into Artorias’ biceps as he held on for dear life. Enticed, Artorias pushed back with the same amount of effort. It was no longer something gentle, but it was something they were both in desperate need of. 

Artorias tucked a lock of crimson hair behind Ornstein’s ear. It did move like water against his touch.

The kiss was broken by Ornstein, who pulled away with a shuddering inhale, unable to drown in love no more. He needed to breathe, to ground himself once more upon solid land. He did not meet Artorias’ eyes. Instead, he looked slightly off to the side. He appeared… rattled. It was disconcerting and a bout of self-consciousness washed over Artorias, feeling he had made some sort of error. 

“I’m sorry,” Artorias apologized.

Ornstein’s pupils flicked back to Artorias. He flinched as if struck, and his eyes were widened with an almost angry confusion. “For what?”

“I… do not know. ‘Twas deemed fitting. Thou seemed disturbed.”

Ornstein hastily shook his head. “‘Tis I acting like a blushing virgin, not thee. Thou hast done nothing wrong. I am merely...” Ornstein self-criticized with a sudden frenzy, hands clenched into tight fists in his lap, and cheeks slightly puffed. Angered by what he deemed his own inadequacy. “I am merely  _ me _ .” 

_ Oh _ , Artorias thought. That’s… cute and tragic at the same time. He laughed and shook his head, wondering why he was surprised by Ornstein at this point. Lanky arms wrapped around the lion knight’s midsection and pulled him closer. “A good thing I like thee, then.”

Artorias bent down and rested his chin on Ornstein’s shoulder. Ornstein tensed at first, then relaxed, not used to such touch. He finally stroked Artorias’ arm with a hand. The silence was comfortable for once.

“Perhaps we both need time to figure out what this means,” Artorias murmured against Ornstein.

“Maybe so… but thou knowest it needn’t change much.”

It was a point that deserved contemplation. After all, it was everything before the allure of romantic implications that caused Artorias to love him as so.

“Wouldst thou like to return to thy duties?” Artorias asked.

Ornstein huffed and shook his head with disbelief. “Of course now is when thou seekest to send me off.”

“Surely Lord Gwyn would miss thee. Thou is eager to returnst any other time,” Artorias teased accompanied by what could be described as a small nuzzle.

“I will finish my duties for today. But later… later we talk.”

“I will wait for thee eagerly until then.”


End file.
